Poor Peter Parker- A Spider-Man sick fic
by Ze Awesome Prussian
Summary: When Peter got bitten by the spider, his strength, eyesight, and even his immune system improved greatly. That doesn't make him invincible, no matter what he may think. This story is a slight AU, where Aunt May died while Peter is still in highschool (maybe 16 years old). The Avengers took him in. Peter is like the little brother of the group, so they care for him when he is sick.
1. In the beginning was the virus

Skateboarding through the rain and 35° weather, Peter Parker shivered enough to nearly fall off his skateboard. Only his spider senses kept him upright as he headed to Harry's house.

If Peter remembered the rain before leaving, he would have borrowed one of Tony's cars or taken the subway. But unfortunately, Peter didn't think, leaving him soaking wet the whole way from Avengers Tower to the Osborne mansion. That's right: The Avengers Tower.

Ever since Aunt May died, Peter had moved in with the Avengers. Supposedly, Tony Stark was the cousin of Richard and Ben Parker. At least, that's the story S.H.I.E.L.D. told the public. Can you imagine? Him and Stark, relatives?

Anyways, since that revelation Peter and Harry had become the two richest kids at Midtown High. Speaking of Harry, he had been down with either a cold or the flu and had missed the last two days of school. Being both Harry's friend and tutor, Peter took it upon himself to deliver missed work to Harry. He also taught Harry the basics of whatever they had learned that day.

Before his spiderbite, Peter would have worried more about catching whatever Harry had, but he figured his healing factor boosted his immune system enough to avoid something like a little cold. Anyways, Harry had nearly recovered, and should be returning to school tomorrow.

Dripping with rainwater, Peter sprinted over to the Osborne Mansion. Once under the cover of its roof, Peter removed his soaked jacket. After wiping his shoes off on the front door carpet, Peter headed up the marble staircase. His spider skills just barely protected him from slipping on the previously clean floor; he tracked in a bit of mud and rain on his way.

As he approached Harry's room, Peter could easily hear the voice inside. "No, I do not need a blanket! I'm warm enough as it is."

Normally, Peter knocked before coming in, but it sounded like Harry needed a save. Quickly walking in, Peter could see Harry lounging in his king-sized bed, reading off his STARK tablet (to defy his dad), and nearly being smothered by his blankets.

Peter's feet awkwardly squelched in his soaked shoes as he walked up to Harry's bed. "Harry, I know you hate getting rained on, but isn't this a little extreme? You don't have to fake being sick to avoid melting in the rain."

Harry's chapped lips formed a smile. "Hey, Pete." Harry gave him a wave. "You look like something the cat dragged in." Bernard, the Osborne' s butler quietly left the room. Harry sighed, relieved that the butler had left. Sure, he cared for him but enough was enough. Nearly back to full health, Harry saw no further need for coddling.

"Thanks for the escape; seriously though, you're soaked." Harry grinned as Peter shook his head like a dog, getting some water on Harry.

"I bring horrible tidings of evil sick days. Your homework, Mr. Osborn." Peter bowed dramatically before reaching into his backpack, careful to avoid the red and blue mask inside.

Harry rolled his eyes, which were less watery than the previous two days. Only the occasional cough or sneeze remained of his illness.

"Great. Homework." Changing the subject, Harry asked Peter, "So, how's life? Is living with Earth' s mightiest heroes taking its toll on you yet?"

"You be the judge. It's definitely a change, but it's kinda amazing. I get to be lab partners with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. You'd be surprised how good of a cook Cap is. Oh! And Clint and I get to play pranks on the others. It's like having five big brothers, or something. Natasha's great too."

Harry shook his head. "Only you would fanboy over science." He paused to cough a bit before continuing. "How's MJ?"

"She's great. We can't wait to have you back at school tomorrow." Although Peter had taken off his jacket at the door, the shirt underneath was just as soaked. Peter shuddered, and slowly inched closer to the heater.

"Aren't you cold? It's gotta be like 30° outside, Pete." Harry shrugged off his blankets and made his way over to Peter.

"35. And I'm fine; it's only a little water." Peter survived a lot worse in his nightly stunts as Spider-Man, but Harry didn't know that.

"Come on, Pete. You've been hanging around me for the last couple of days. If you stay wet like this, you could get sick." Harry frowned.

Nearly smirking at the notion, Peter Parker finally relented to Harry's pointless concern. Him? Get sick? Impossible. Ever since the spider bite about a year and a half ago, Peter's immune system fought off any bug that even tried to penetrate his body. Still, for the concern of his friend, Peter let Harry hand him a towel to dry himself off, sort of. Clothes don't dry as easily as hair.

"There, happy?" Peter smiled at Harry as he grabbed the towel and tossed it in the laundry hamper. He looked over at his friend, who stood about two feet away from him.

Harry nodded, and started to say something, but was interrupted by two sneezes. It caught him by surprise, so it escaped mostly uncovered right onto an unsuspecting Peter. Peter blinked, but otherwise remained unbothered by it. Harry blew his sore nose on the tissues on his nightstand.

"Bless You."

"Thanks."Harry flopped onto his bed and closed his eyes momentarily.

"Well," Peter started. "I should probably head back now. I have some homework to finish."

Reluctantly, Harry nodded. "Me too. See you tomorrow, Pete?"

"See you, Harry." And with that, Peter left the mansion, returning to the downpour outside.

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After finishing his homework and stopping by the Tony's kitchen for some leftover takeout, Peter donned his spandex and jumped out the window. His favorite part of being Spiderman: the freefall. Terrifying and exhilarating; it let him forget about everything else. Through the rush of adrenaline, everything appeared perfect for a second or two. But eventually Peter let a web fly towards the nearest building, and swung around the city.

It still hadn't stopped raining. While other materials either absorbed water, or resisted it, spandex seemed to do neither, leaving our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man rather uncomfortably wet. Thankfully, the constant downpour discouraged most villains from causing trouble. Only the insane ones came out in weather like this.

Speaking of insane, Dr. Conners recently escaped prison with the aid of his not-quite-subdued lizard side. And guess who had decided to make a reappearance in Time Square? The Lizard. So with a wave to the crazy pedestrians braving the rain, Spidey swung over to the chaos, ignoring the beginning of a headache.

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Not returning to the Avengers Tower until nearly three in the morning, Peter all but collapsed onto the couch. Pulling his mask off with an unconcealed shiver, Peter let his eyes close. He really had meant to return to his room, but the couch felt like a warm fluffy cloud. Perfect for a tired, soaked, teenage superhero. Snuggling further into a corner, Peter's wet hair left a mark on Tony's otherwise spotless sofa. Within seconds, Peter completely passed out on the couch.

On the floor just above the common room, Steve lay in his bed. Formerly asleep, Steve woke because of something landing on his window. Confusedly, he made his way to the living room to see what made the noise. Walking down the stairs quietly, Steve noticed a red-and-blue-suited Peter sitting rather awkwardly on Tony's olympic sized couch and snoring a bit.

"Peter?"

Putting a hand on his shoulder and sitting beside him, Steve expected Peter to jerk awake. Instead, he tilted sideways, ending up leaning on Steve. Tensing for a moment, Steve hesitantly looked at Peter. His face and posture were completely relaxed, and Steve didn't have the heart to wake him up.

Steve carefully picked up Peter, holding his knees and head in place. Steve had carried children that weighed more than Peter. The kid's crazy metabolism almost rivaled his own, not to mention the less than adequate amount of food he ate. With his superheroing, his school, and Avengers duties, Peter almost didn't have time to eat.

As he carried Peter to the Spider-Man level of the tower, Steve noticed Peter's wet hair practically glued to his skull. The rest of his suit clung to him likewise. So as much as Steve hated it, Peter needed to wake up. Healing factor or no, no one was invincible to hypothermia. Well, except those who had survived 70 years in a block of ice.

"Peter, wake up." Steve set him on the couch. Peter groaned, shielding his eyes from the light. "The light! It burns us precious!" Peter moaned, not ready to wake up for a other solid 20 hours.

Not understanding the reference, but finding it funny anyways, Steve chuckled. "Nice try, Peter. You need to change out of that suit and into normal clothes before you freeze to death."

"M'fine. Don't need pyjamas. Need sleep." Peter winced; his throat felt kinda sore and dry. Maybe dehydration?

Steve shook his head. "Get dry clothes on, and then I will let you sleep." Stepping out for a moment, Steve wondered how the kid did it. Most of the others only stopped the occasional alien invasion or bank robbery if they appeared near the area. Spidey took them all, from muggers to gangs to kidnappers, even purse-snatchers. He genuinely cared about the well-being of every New Yorker.

"I'm dressed, Cap. You can go now." Peter talked through the wall to Steve. "G'Night."

"Goodnight Peter." Steve called as he returned to his room for some well-earned rest. Inside the room, Peter again fell asleep, too tired to notice his increasing headache, and too exhausted to care.

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Peter's alarm clock requested a death sentence the following morning. It woke him up at 7:00, allowing Peter only four hours of sleep. If Peter had a choice, he would chose staying home in an instant. But unfortunately, Peter had no choice. School awaited him, and it wasn't getting snowed out any time soon, so Peter dragged himself out of bed.

Running upstairs, Peter yanked on a jacket. When he got there, Peter heard laughter coming from the kitchen. Tony and Clint sat next to each other, laughing hysterically at something on Tony's STARK tablet. "Hey Pete, did you know that some people drew pictures of us as girls?" Clint' s eyes watered from laughter as he showed them all female Hulk.

Tony' s guffaws of laughter succeeded in waking the remainder of the Avengers. "I'm the prettiest." Tony boasts to Steve as he walks into the room, panting lightly from his morning jog. Steve quirks an eyebrow at the statement before blushing bright red when Clint flips around the tablet for him to see. No Spider-Woman is present in the picture, which barely bothers the sleep-deprived teen at all.

"Hey, there's no Spider-Man!" Tony notices as he flips through the pictures.

Peter nods, wincing as he shovels loads of cereal down his sore throat. It hurts less after some milk. "That's because no one knows what I look like under the mask; you can't make a girl version of a mask very well." Peter's voice awkwardly cracked at the end of his sentence. Thankfully no one else noticed, but it worried him. Peter had no intentions of going through puberty twice, thank you very much.

Once Peter finished his food, he dealt with the second most important matter at hand; his killer caffeine-headache. Grabbing a coffee mug from the counter, Peter gulped down the entire thing in less than a minute. He grimaced at the bitter aftertaste, but eagerly awaited the caffeine that would soon wake him up.

Tony noticed him over by the coffee, and called out. "Hey, Pete! Got any more coffee? There's too much blood in my caffeine-stream (Caffeine in my blood-stream)."

"Sure." Yawning quietly as he poured coffee, Peter regained some more of his consciousness, as well as his sore throat from earlier.

Then Bruce walked into the kitchen while reading his newspaper. He looked up at the rest of them, surprised. "I'm surprised to still see Peter here. School starts in fifteen minutes."

Normally, Peter woke up earlier. He left at about 7:40 AM most days, stopping for a quick swing around town before school.

Peter jumped out of his seat and ran for his skateboard and backpack. "Gotta go, guys. By the way, I think Steve makes the prettiest girl. Bye!" He ran out the door, grinning to himself.

Tony gasped in disbelief. "What! Spangles over me? That's harsh." Clint cracked up as Steve hid his face in his hands. Bruce looked up from his newspaper in confusion.

Tony recovered from his grief, and asked Bruce, "Do you want to see Lady Hulk?"

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The average human takes one to three days to start showing signs of a a cold or the flu after being infected. For Peter it took three days, including the two previous days when he visited Harry. Although Peter started showing signs of a cold on day three, he didn't even realize he was sick until day five, and by then he couldn't do anything to stop his 'little' cold. Poor Peter Parker.


	2. The virus infected Peter

Hi readers, here's the second chapter to my fic. Just to let you know, these have kinda been created over a long period of time and posted pretty quickly. I am not normally this fast with posting new chapters, so you might have to wait a little for the next chapter. P. S.- I do not own Spidey, or the Avengers.

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The concentrated silence in the classroom was so thick that you could grab it and eat it, like peanut butter. The chapter 12 honors chemistry test, which was possibly the hardest test ever undertaken by the students yet, demanded all of their attention.

Peter finished it seventeen minutes ago, but had another troubling matter at hand. His nose itched. Badly. Having been holding in a sneeze for fifteen of those minutes, Peter felt ready to give in. He hated to break the silence, he really did, but he couldn't last another second. Inhaling shakily, Peter sneezed twice into his sleeve, stifling it as well as he could.

Several students jumped in their seats. Others turned to glare at Peter as he discretely wiped his nose on his wrist. 'I knew I should have grabbed that to-go pack of tissues on my way out.' Peter thought, wincing as the fabric scraped against his sore nose. Raising his hand quietly, Peter asked to go to the bathroom. The teacher nodded, preoccupied with grading the previous class' tests.

After blowing his nose on the scratchy school toilet paper, Peter washed his hands and looked at himself in the mirror. Paler face, pink nose, purple underneath his eyes, only noticeable when you looked for it. Now if only he could stop his running nose and his watering eyes. Peter mentally accounted for all his symptoms: coughing, sneezing, runny nose, sore throat, headache, and possibly a fever. Splashing his face with water to wake up more, Peter dried his hands and returned to class just before the bell rang, signaling the end of sixth period.

Amongst the boisterous crowd of high schoolers, Peter Parker shuffled over to his locker, more thankful for the weekend than he ever had been before in his life. Well, he would be if the school day ended yet. Peter coughed into his sleeve, dreading what remained of the school day.

One class left: physical education. Which sucks, by the way. Normally, Peter aced P.E., except for dodgeball, which he let the other team win. Unfortunately, colds tend to suck all the life out of you, give you horrible headaches, totally stuff up your nose, and make you cough till you feel like you want to explode. Peter felt like all that and more, but unfortunately he still had to attend P.E.

Peter arrived at class without a moment to spare. He headed over to Harry, clearing his throat. Obviously, Harry got him sick, but Harry has enough on his plate without learning that he caused his best friend misery. So Peter would try his best to act like he felt fine, at least until the end of school.

Harry grinned, "Hey, Pete. What's up?"

"Hi Harry. Just waiting for school to be over. What does Mr. Cambridge plan on torturing us with today?" Through Peter's stuffed nose, his n' s and m' s sounded a bit like d' s and b' s. Thankfully, Harry didn't notice.

Harry's smile dropped, "Dodgeball today, sorry Pete. No easy escape today." Peter groaned, and started to reply before being interrupted by a cough. Peter coughed painfully, but managed to smother them in his sleeve until he stopped. "Scuse me."

Harry blinked, concern filling his eyes. "You okay?"

Peter swallowed, ridding himself of the last of the tickle. "Perfectly fine. I just choked on some ...air."

"Air. Right."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak, Mr. Cambridge stepped into the gym. "Okay students, today is dodgeball. I pick the teams. Flash, Avery, John, Lily, Rebecca, Matthew, Emma, Gabe, Jeremy, Harry, John, Megan, Abbie, Benjamin and Peter on one team. Everyone else on the other team."

The students gathered in their collective groups, high fiving the friends on their team. The group nominated Flash as team captain, who quickly divided the group into defense and offense. Although Flash used to bully others, he leads them naturally. Now that he started to treat others better, most of the students respect him.

Placed near the back of the crowd, Peter found it difficult to see the balls and dodge them. While blowing his nose for the fourth time that class period, Peter narrowly missed the dodgeball aimed right for his face. After a while, the group thinned out, leaving Harry, Flash, Peter, and two others. The other team saw Flash as the biggest threat and mainly targeted him, leaving Peter free to maneuver and throw dodgeballs at the other team. He hit two people before Flash got out. Harry almost caught a ball, but juggled it too much, getting himself out. The other two teens got hit shortly afterwards, leaving only Peter.

Peter stared at the other team, five people strong, and grimaced. Of course, as Spiderman, he could hit them all in one shot with the same ball, but Fury discouraged any showing off while in civilian wear. He decided to catch a ball, but not immediately. Catching a ball when only one person remains allows the entire team to return to the game.

Tossing three balls in quick succession, the other team quickly moved to eliminate Peter. Peter dodged all three, pretending to almost fall over. He continued to dodge balls, but eventually his team got impatient.

"Catch the ball, Parker!" Flash yelled.

Peter nodded, suddenly feeling the need to cough. 'Not here. Not now.'

Swallowing hard and holding his breath, Peter failed to notice a ball thrown straight for his face. Suddenly his Spidey Sense tingled. Peter brought his hand up on front of his face and caught the ball right before it would have hit his face.

Peter's entire team rushed onto the gym floor, yelling and cheering. Nobody noticed when Peter finally coughed. Doubling over, Peter's coughs were barely hidden by the roar of the thirty animated highschool students Peter had just freed. For almost a minute, Peter had trouble taking a breath without coughing. Just as he finished, a ball hit him square in the chest. Peter sighed in relief, he played the game and now he could be done.

Sitting himself on the bench, Peter pretended to watch the game. In reality, he nearly fell asleep. He sniffed quietly, trying to stop his brains from dripping out of his nose. Normally, Peter could swing across town without breaking a sweat. With a cold, he felt exhausted after a simple game of dodgeball.

"I guess that rules out late night patrolling tonight," Peter mumbled to himself as the bell rang.

Peter walked to his locker slowly, feeling tired and kinda sorry for himself. Not only did he have to walk home in the cold, but once he got there, he would need to keep up appearances with the rest of the Avengers. Grabbing his stuff, Peter didn't notice Flash running up behind him until it was too late.

"Hey, Parker!" Flash ambushed him from behind, giving him a noogie. "Great job in dodgeball today! You really surprised us. I mean, catching that fastball was pretty awesome." Peter jumped at the sudden contact, still not quite used to Flash being nice. It seemed like just days ago, Flash had been shoving Peter into a locker. Both of them had matured since then, in more ways than one.

"Uh, thanks." Peter replied as he shoved his homework into his overflowing backpack. Flash then proceeded to talk to him about all things Spider-Man and football.

Peter shivered suddenly while Flash talked. His stupid cold/flu/superplague couldn't decide whether he felt hot or cold. And to believe that he had completely overlooked his symptoms yesterday. Unbelievable.

Flash noticed, but didn't pry. Having seen Peter sneezing in science and choking in P.E.,flash didn't need to be a genius to figure out that Peter caught a cold. Whether or not Peter would admit to it was a different matter entirely. Flash knew from experience that Peter always came to school, no matter what. When his uncle died, he came to school. When the Lizard attacked, he came to school. When Flash beat him up (Flash regretted that decision now), he stayed at school. Of course Peter would come to school with a cold, and a possible fever. Crazy Parker.

"Uh, thanks." Peter released himself from Flash's friendly grip, not noticing his voice shift up an octave. "I gotta go. See you later."

Flash waved goodbye, "Feel better, Parker." Peter blushed, surprised by his intuition.

Peter started to reply, but three awkwardly unavoidable coughs came out instead. "Thanks," Peter mumbled as he picked up his backpack and headed home.

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Burrowing himself more snugly into the hoodie he wore, Peter realized for the first time today that it didn't belong to him. Upon further inspection, Peter found a name printed on the tag. Bruce Banner. Grinning sheepishly to himself, Peter walked past the coffee shop adjacent to Avengers Tower.

He crossed the street, and soon was standing in the elevator of Avengers tower. "What level, sir?"Jarvis, Tony's AI asked Peter.

"Avengers level please, Jarvis." Peter's nose had started to run earlier, so he sniffed half-heartedly. At least the tower was warmer than outside.

"Sir, my sensors have detected an anomaly in your body's functions. Your average body temperature is elevated by 2.1° Fahrenheit. You are also exhibiting symptoms similar to that of the common cold or the flu. Should I alert Mr. Stark?"

Peter's eyes widened. "No! I... um, I mean, that's not necessary Jarvis." Peter rubbed at his throat, hoping it would decrease the ache inside. It didn't.

"If you are certain, sir."

Soon the elevator doors opened, bringing Peter to the Avengers level. He quickly went to his room, flopping onto the bed. If he lived alone, Peter would have stayed like that forever, or at least until he fell asleep. Unfortunately, Peter had a reputation to uphold.

Being the youngest of the Avengers by at least eight years, maybe more, he often felt like he got the short end of the stick. Peter normally accepted the challenge of keeping up with the Avengers, however, today he just wanted to be taken care of. That is, if his pride allowed him this luxury. As it was, Peter still felt like he had to prove himself to the others. So after a minute or two, Peter rose from his bed, albeit rather reluctantly.

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P.S. - Comments make the llama happy


	3. Peter dwelt among concerned heroes

Hi! Thanks for all the comments on my story, they make the llama happy! Sorry I didn't post sooner than this; my kindle got left at school with the story on it. I've never really written with Spidey or the Avengers before now, so wish me luck. Hope you like this part!

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Sitting up in his bed, Peter made a plan for surviving the rest of the day in Avengers Tower with a cold. First things first, if Peter felt bad now, he would feel completely horrible by the time he went to bed tonight. Keeping this in mind, Peter found a decent box of tissues, and searched for any cold remedies in his room. Unfortunately, he found none. Deciding on cocoa instead, Peter made his way up to the Avengers living room/kitchen area.

Quickly finding a packet of hot chocolate mix, Peter poured it into his hot water and stirred it. Peter shivered in Bruce's hoodie as he waited for his drink to cool enough to not burn his mouth. Growing impatient, Peter started to drink his cocoa.

Suddenly, a nerf bullet came out of nowhere and hit him on the back of his head. Peter flinched, inhaling some of his drink. Peter coughed explosively into his fist, not regaining composure for at least twenty seconds. Once he had, he realized that his cup had tipped over while he coughed, completely soaking his pants.

"Clint! What the heck? I thought we were even!" Peter Parker most certainly did not whine as he dried off his pants, hoping that his legs weren't burned. Meanwhile, a proud Clint jumped down from the ceiling, nerf gun in hand.

The two had recently been engaging in a prank war. It started when Peter (accidentally) put his Spidey suit in the wash with Clint' s shield uniform. Then Clint replaced the web cartridges in Peter's web-slingers with glue. After that, Peter hacked Clint' s alarm clock, making it go off every twenty minutes (Clint threw it out the window). Clint eventually dyed all of Peter's Spidey suits pink. Peter would have retaliated, but Steve had called it quits, threatening to sic Fury on all of them if they didn't grow up.

"Testing your reflexes, kid. Aren't your Spidey-senses supposed to warn you if there's a threat?" Clint ruffled Peter's hair, noticing but not questioning the heat that came from him. That cough sounded kinda bad, but who was he to call the kid on it? Let him keep his dignity.

Peter glared at him half-heartedly, thankful he hadn't been wearing his Spidey-suit underneath his clothes like normal. "Guess you didn't count as a threat then." He rubbed at his throat, hoping not to cough again until Clint left.

"Still, I did scare you a little, right?"

"Didn't scare me. Just surprised me. There's a difference." Peter scowled at Clint. At least none of the cocoa got onto Bruce's hoodie. Having been in the hoodie for most of the day, Peter had stored up enough body heat inside to actually not feel as cold and feverish as he had earlier. Not to mention, you know, the fact that it belonged to Bruce, not him. Speaking of illness, Peter's nose had started to itch. He discretely rubbed it, hoping that it would suffice until he was alone.

"Sure I didn't." Clint rolled his eyes at Peter, beginning to make him some more cocoa. "How was school?"

"It was fine. We played dodgeball in P.E. today."

"Cool!"

"No, not cool. Peter Parker is a non-superpowered kid with barely mediocre skill at anything involving sports. Even though I could deck those guys in three seconds flat, I'm not allowed to."

"Oh." Clint sobered for a second. "Did your team win?"

"Yeah."

"That's good. At least you're not a loser. Oh, wait! You are!" Clint chuckled before ruffling Peter' s hair affectionately (he also discretely felt for the slight fever he might have felt coming off the boy earlier, crazy spy skills). "You know I'm just kidding, right?" Peter nodded grumpily. "You're awesome, Pete."

Peter blushed, not that you could tell, with his already slightly flushed face from the low grade fever he was sporting.

Then came an awkward silence. After a couple seconds, Clint broke this silence. "So... do you want to hear about my new arrows? Tony created them."

"Sure." Peter nodded, rubbing his nose harshly. It had started to tickle again, and Clint wasn't stupid. If he sneezed even a few times, Clint would know something was up.

Beginning to describe in great detail his amazing new arrows, which shocked people on impact, by the way, Clint nearly missed it when Peter sneezed. He sneezed twice, once uncovered, and the second barely muffled by his hands.

"Bless you. What is it that they teach you kids in school these days? Oh yeah, vampire sneeze." Clint glanced at Peter as he blinked like a deer caught in the headlights before sneezing a third and final time, this one he caught in his elbow.

Finally done with sneezing , Peter stood up. "I'm gonna go change. I spilled some cocoa on my pants. Be right back."

"I'll get you some more." Clint offered. Peter nodded, and left the room.

Peter had an interesting friendship with Clint. Once they got over the slight age difference, and came out of their respective shells, the two quickly turned into friends. Although a bit standoff-ish at first, Clint relaxed more once they got to know each other.

Peter ran back down the stairs, coughing into his fist. Sure, it's not sanitary, but it's quicker than his elbow, and better than nothing. He wondered how long he could keep this from the others.

"I mean, I live with at least one certifiable genius, two master assassins, and a super-soldier, but that doesn't mean they're people persons. Not to mention, Bruce. Bruce is pretty observant, and he is a doctor. Besides, nothing ever gets by Natasha. I give it three days tops until they figure out that I'm sick." Peter thought to himself.

Aunt May always knew when he didn't feel good. Even though she didn't know his secret until the end, she was always there with a smile and an ice pack when he needed it. Or a random home-remedy. She didn't believe in the gross cold medicines they sold in pharmacies. Peter himself had never had Nyquil because of it. He doubted it would work on him at all now that he had his spider powers. That is, if he could find any cold medicine.

Nodding to himself, Peter returned to the kitchen to find a mug of cocoa sitting on the counter, along with a strangely colored bottle of something. Upon further inspection, Peter discovered that it was Nyquil. Clint was nowhere to be seen.

Peter made a face at the Nyquil, and stuffed it unceremoniously into the hoodie' s pocket. He wasn't that desperate yet. Plus, he still needed energy for sciencing with Bruce and Tony. Maybe later, not now.

Sittting on the countertop, Peter began to drink his cocoa. Hearing footsteps come from behind him, Peter glanced backwards to see Natasha. "Hi Natasha. What's up?"

"Classified." She said with a straight face. Peter grinned and Natasha smiled back.

"How was your mission? I wanted to tag along, but Bruce said I had to go to school." Peter asked, clearing his throat.

"And he was right You miss enough school with your Spider-Man gig as it is. What's the Nyquil for?" She nodded towards the bottle conspicuously bulging out of his pocket.

"Oh shoot! Why did Clint have to figure it out? Wheel of excuses, don't fail me now." Peter thought to himself. "Um..." Suddenly a cough bubbled out of his chest. He coughed twice into his elbow, hoping she didn't hear how painful they felt. "It's for a ... science experiment."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Science, right. For this science experiment, do you need some cough drops? Or maybe a long nap?"

Peter gulped. Busted! "No thanks."

"I'm not stupid, Peter. I've had my fair share of illnesses on the job. Where did you get the Nyquil?"

Peter sighed. "Clint gave it to me. Guess I didn't fool him either." Yawning a bit, Peter aggravated his throat. Painfully coughing into his fist, Peter decided that he officially hated colds. Natasha handed him some water, which he hastily gulped down until he could breathe again.

Natasha frowned at him. "Take it easy, okay? Not late night patrols until that cough sounds better."

"But I ..."

"No buts, unless you want me to sic Banner on you." Natasha threatened, fully intending to do it.

Peter massaged his forehead and nodded reluctantly. "Fine."

"Headache?"

"You have no idea." Closing his eyes for a second, Peter jerked up when he felt Nat's cool hand on his forehead. You know how the other side of the pillow is nice and cool when you are sick? Nat's hand was that awesome times a million! Peter subconsciously leaned into her hand, which left his head all too soon. When Peter opened his eyes, strangely, he could not see Natasha anywhere.

"Hey, Pete. Catch." Peter spun around just in time to have a bottle of Tylenol hit him square in the chest. With this cold, Peter's Spidey-sense was on the fritz. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. One time it went off for no reason at all.

"What's this for?" Peter looked up at Nat questioningly.

"It's for you, kid. They're extra strength. Steve's, actually. He normally has about three when he needs them, but one should do it for you."

Peter nodded, swallowing the pill. "What time is it?" He planned on meeting up with Tony and Bruce in one of the labs at seven to work on his web shooters and other random gadgets.

"It's about four. You have more than enough time to take a nap before meeting up with Tony and Bruce." Peter considered this idea, he hadn't thought of a nap. As he thought it over, the notion of a nap sounded better and better.

Natasha ruffled his hair a bit. "Get some rest, soldier." And with that, Peter walked upstairs, took a dose of Nyquil, and fell into a medically induced sleep.

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	4. Tony notices something Steve doesn't

Hi followers of this story! I hope you like this next chapter. I'm expecting this story to go on for maybe one or two more chapters. Enjoy!

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Tony was confused. Peter had agreed to science with Bruce and Tony at seven. There had not been a major catastrophe anywhere in New York, at least none that he was aware of. Peter never went to the basketball games that took place at his school. Umm... Did Peter forget? That would explain his absence.

Making up his mind, Tony called out, "Jarvis, locate Peter."

Responding promptly, Jarvis replied,"Peter is in his room. Sir, might I suggest a quiet entrance? The young sir appears to be asleep."

"Noted. Thanks , J."

Tony quickly left his toys in his lab to go get Peter. Riding up the express elevator, Tony arrived at Peter's room. Creeping in silently, Tony smirked maliciously at the sight of Peter. His face flushed slightly from the five blankets covering him, his tranquil breathing and light snores, the lightly tinted bags under his eyes, all made him appear as the perfect epitome of a tired-out teen. So innocent, so peaceful, so going to get it.

Inhaling deeply, Tony exclaimed loudly, "PETER! YOU FAILED YOUR HONORS BIOLOGY TEST!" Peter, being the studious student he was, could not bear even the thought of this grievous failure. Jolting upward, Peter slowly became cognizant of his surroundings. Including the cackling billionaire three feet from his bed.

"What. Are. You. Doing. In. My. Room?" Peters voice was as hard as ice, if albeit scratchy from sleep.

"Oh, you know... trying to stop my favorite teenage lab partner from sleeping through science time. It gets kinda boring with just me and Bruce, you know?"

Peter massaged his forehead lightly, "It's Bruce and I. Not me and Bruce."

"Fine. Grammar police." Tony muttered. "So, will you've gracing us with your presence?"

Peter nodded, ignoring Tony's mocking tone. "Yeah, I'll be there." He cleared his throat. "Just gimmie a sec, okay?"

"Yeah, sure thing. See you there." Tony exited the room, barely closing the door before he heard three harsh coughs exit Peter's body. Tony paused, listening for a moment. Two more coughs shortly, along with the sound of Peter grumbling to himself.

"Stupid Nyquil. Knocks me out for too long, and doesn't even get rid of a cough." Tony thought he heard Barton's name mentioned a few times, but he couldn't hear Peter very well anymore. Shrugging to himself, Tony returned to the lab where Bruce remained. With earphones expelling music into his ears, Bruce barely noticed Tony walk in.

"Is Peter coming?" Bruce popped one earbud out of his ear to listen.

"Yeah, he'll be here in a little while. He was taking a nap. Emphasis on the **was**." Tony chuckled, meanwhile Bruce became concerned for their friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

"Tony, what did you do?" He knew it had been a mistake to let Tony retrieve Peter by himself.

"Nothing, just crushed his little nerdy dreams." At Bruce's unamused look, Tony gulped. "I yelled that he failed his honors biology test."

"You do know that Peter is in Cheistry now, not Biology, right?" Tony grinned sheepishly at his own oversight.

Bruce rolled his eyes, popping the earphone back into place just as Peter walked in. That's right. Walked.

Right outside the lab, there were some stairs leading up to the rest of the Avenger's penthouse. Usually Peter raced down the stairs, vaulting off the last five and landing with a loud thump, which almost always startled Tony enough to jolt him out of his scientific stupor. But not today.

Today, Peter walked into the lab peacefully...no, lethargically. Bundled up in a grey hoodie and fuzzy socks, Peter almost looked uncomfortably warm in the tower's constant 70°F (21.1° C) atmosphere. Almost too hot, that is, if he wasn't shivering every five seconds. Tony cataloug information in his brain for further inspection once he was done sciencing. Even if it was interesting, it wasn't a priority yet. Probably just warming up after spending all day in that freezer of a school Peter attended.

Today each one of them had a task to complete, whether it was self-assigned or requested by a team member. Banner worked on a lightweight fireproof, bulletproof, knife-resistant fabric that could be utilized for both Peter's and Cap' s suits. Tony had made it his priority to improve SHIELD's standard weaponry and simultaneously make it all Iron Man colored. And lastly, Peter improved his web-shooters with yet another upgrade, this one with longer lasting webs, should the need arise (his normal webs last an hour at most). Now to get to work.

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Peter had a cough. Over the past hour, it had steadily become more noticeable. At first, it was nothing. Just a sharp clearing of his throat every now and then. Then it was a light cough tickling the back of Peter's throat. After that, it was two or three, kinda rapid fire. As he had said before, not too serious; however, it was as easy to ignore as an out of tune voice amidst a choir. Impossible to look past.

Thankfully for Peter, Bruce's music had stopped Banner from hearing him cough. Although his coughing fell mostly on deaf ears, Tony could hear him perfectly. In fact, after a particularly annoying coughing bout, Peter had looked around and discovered that Tony had left the lab. He had yet to return.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps made its way down the stairs and into the lab. In Tony's hand was a glass of water, which he left at Peter's station as he walked past. He also had a conspicuous-looking bulge in his jacket pocket.

Peter shrugged and continued with his tinkering, occasionally sipping from the water Tony got him. After about two minutes, Peter's urge to cough resurfaced. He covered about four or five coughs with his elbow before drinking some water. Getting up from his chair, Tony walked up next to Peter and reached into his pocket, producing a bag of cough drops.

"I'm ok." Peter attempted persuasion, although the effort was futile.

"Take it, Pete. You sound like you're going to cough up a lung."

"Oh, please. You just want me to take one so I'll stop spewing germs all over your lab, germiphobe. I'm not even sick; I just swallowed down the wrong pipe." Hoping to distract Tony, Peter mentioned germs.

"Hey! I've improved a lot. For starters, if you had done this a year ago, I probably would have isolated myself in my room until you weren't contagious. Now I'm actually trying to be concerned for your well being. This is what I get for trying to be helpful?"

Peter felt a little guilty now, but if he accepted the cough drops, Tony would know without a doubt that he was sick. Two other Avengers knew already, he didn't need any more humiliation. So with a stubborn pout, Peter turned towards his project and grumbled, "I'm fine."

At Peter's refusal, Tony threatened, "if you don't, I'll tell Steve."

Peter shuddered at the thought. Familiar with illnesses from personal experience, Steve had been appointed the mother hen of the group. In close second was Bruce.

Peter would much rather take one of the horrible-tasting cough drops than suffer the wrath of Steve Rogers. So with a bit of reluctance, Peter popped a cherry-flavored cough drop into his mouth, grimacing at the taste but relishing how it eased the tickle that had been invading his throat. It also cleared his nose a little.

Although it injured his pride a little, Peter thanked Tony. Tony simply shrugged and responded with a smart remark about his coughing getting annoying. This made Peter grin cheekily and exclaim, "I always knew you had a heart in you!"

Tony rolled his eyes and returned to his workspace. He had some guns to modify.

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After Peter, Tony, and Bruce finished their projects, they joined the rest of the team for some dinner and Friday night football. Of course, only Clint really paid attention to the game, but it provided a nice amount of background noise most nights. Just not tonight.

Tonight, Peter's head throbbed in sinc with the announcer's voice. His nose itched with every touchdown, and was it just him, or was his Spidey sense going off whenever the opposing team was about to intercept the ball?

Speaking of his Spidey sense, it had been on the fritz for their last couple hours. At first, it freaked him out. Then he realized that it was most likely just this cold/flu/superplague (most likely the superplauge) messing with his system. Although it had been annoying, it hadn't gotten in the way of his whole "act like everything is fine" plan.

"Dinner's here!" Clint exclaimed as the elevator chimed. They had ordered pizza, five pizzas, actually. With Steve's metabolism and Peter's appetite, not to mention the Hulk, they tended to go through a lot of food.

The elevator door opened, revealing a wide-eyed delivery man, not much older than Peter himself. Said delivery man was immediately robbed of his pizza by none other than the famous Tony Stark. The awestruck teen didn't even think to ask for the Avenger's autographs until the elevator doors closed. He looked down at his hands in disappointment only to find a $100 Bill as his tip. Folded up inside the bill was a picture of the Avengers, as well as their autographs. The delivery guy's grin nearly split his face in two. Wait 'till his friends heard about this.

(Back to our heroes)

Despite what many might believe, dinner in Avenger's tower was actually quite civil. That is, if you ignore the noise, the surprisingly large amount of bent forks and knives (Tony could barely replace them as often as they broke), and the sheer amount of pizza that they ate. Peter alone could easily consume two whole boxes of it. At least, when his stomach didn't feel unhappy.

He didn't feel like throwing up or anything. He just felt that eating a ton of pizza right now would be uncomfortable. He had one slice of cheese pizza so he didn't make the others suspicious.

Slumped over in his chair, Peter had almost nodded off once during dinner. Only Clint's excited cheer when his team scored a point had kept him from sleep. Although he desperately needed sleep, here was not the place.

"Hey, Pete? You want another slice of pizza?" Clint offered him the last one in the box.

"No thanks, Clint. I'm full."

Clint grinned, excited at the notion of eating the last piece of pizza. Taking it out of the box, Clint lifted it towards his mouth, closed his eyes, and took a large bite of... air?

Natasha snagged the piece at the last second, quickly taking a bite of it. Clint' s eyes widened in surprise as he looked around for his missing piece of pizza. Finally locating it, Clint groaned in frustration.

"Come on, Natasha! That was mine!"

Natasha took another bite of the borrowed pizza and smiled at Clint. "Now it's mine."

Clint reached across the table, trying to grab the pizza which was just out of reach. Smiling innocently, Nat surprised them all by licking the pizza. (Come on, anyone with siblings must have done this at some point in their lives)

"Mine." Nat repeated, and finished off the last piece of pizza, to the charign of most of the guys at the table.

Peter merely grinned. Many people speculated who the toughest Avenger was. Most thought it was Thor, or the Hulk, or even Captain America. They were all wrong. Natasha Romanoff wad by far the scariest and toughest Avenger on the team.

After the pizza disappeared, the group migrated to the living room area. Bruce claimed the recliner, Clint and Natasha the loveseat, and Steve, Tony and Peter were left with the couch.

Peter glanced at his watch, which read 9:48 PM. Maybe he could... Peter's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by his Spidey sense blaring in his skull. Wait, not his skull, his nose. Peter's Spidey sense tickled Peter's nose in an unbearable way. Scrunching up his nose did nothing, so Peter did the unavoidable. Sneezing rapidly three times into his elbow, Peter quickly felt multiple pairs of eyes on him.

Blushing immensely, Peter looked up from his elbow, thankful that this sneeze hadn't been particularly messy. It would have been awkward if he had actually cleared his nose with that sneeze.

A round of "bless you's" had followed Peter's sneeze, and most of the Avengers were quickly distracted by the fumble on the screen.

Steve, however, kept his eye on Peter, who was desperately attempting to look as healthy as possible. Although his effort was valiant indeed, it was hard to pretend to be fine with a 100°F fever, headache and a cough.

"Are you alright?" Steve asked Peter, his eyes concerned.

Peter nodded, "Yeah, I'm good. It was just my Spidey sense. Sometimes it does that. It's kinda counter-productive, but whatever. I don't know everything abou how it works." Gulping nervously, Peter hoped Steve didn't see through his excuse. Sure his Spidey-sense did cause his sneeze, but that was nowhere near normal.

"Are you sure that's all it was, Peter?" Steve's eyes scanned him, noticing his cheeks flush slightly and his how tired his eyes looked.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just a bit tired is all. That's what weekends are for, though. Am I right, Cap?" Steve nodded, convinced for now of Peter's acceptable health. They turned back to the TV just in time to see yet another GEICO commercial.

About an hour later, Peter finally admitted defeat and headed to bed. "Goodnight, guys. See you in the morning."

The Avengers chorused goodnight, a few of them went to bed shortly after Peter did.

Walking up to his room, Peter finally allowed himself to cough. Releasing his deep-sounding coughs into his shoulder, it took Peter a while to regain his breath. Once he had gotten his breath back, Peter reached his room. Stopping quickly to blow his nose in the bathroom, Peter could barely keep his eyes open. Not even bothering with pajamas, Peter turned off his light, and snuggled under his multitude of blankets.

He forgot to have some Nyquil, but he figured sleep was more important. Peter was out like a light.

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	5. Nightmarish training time

Hi readers! Sorry about the long wait in between chapters. I had an ear infection and then had to do make-up work from taking a sick day. But now I'm back! Hope you enjoy this new chapter of my story!

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Tossing and turning in his bed, Peter tumbled through his nightmare. Battling his foes almost appeared fun some nights, but on this particular night the kid clearly needed to up his game in the hero-ing business.

Doctor Octopus, a challenging foe of Peter's, often plagued his nightmares. Perhaps this was because of many bad experiences around the guy, or maybe because of how close he had come to unmasking our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, or maybe it was his odd resemblance to Peter's childhood menace, the octopus of Central Park Zoo. Since that scarring experience, Peter had never wanted to see another octopus as long as he lived. Unfortunately, one of his enemies practically begged to be named that, what with the four extra extremities.

Anyways, tonight was like many other nights for Peter, except for one thing: Peter had a fever. Although not all fevers cause bad dreams this one gave Peter a run for his money.

(Peter's dreaming now)

There Peter lay, trapped in the evil clutches of Doctor Octopus. Unable to move, Spider-Man was helpless to stop the villain from taking off the only piece of clothing that hid his identity.

Doctor Octopus grinned maliciously at the sight before him. A highschool kid, no more than 16, and able to become this superhero. Who would have thought that Spider-Man had yet to finish highschool?

"So, the Amazing Spider-Man is nothing but a mere child. How underwhelming." Peter's lips moved, trying to reply, but no matter how hard he tried to push his vocal chords, not a sound exited Peter's mouth.

Doctor Octopus continued, "Not going to talk? Fine. I'll make you talk. Recognize these two?" Using one of his many tentacles, Doctor Octopus threw aside a curtain that had previosly hidden part of the lab. Tied hand and foot, and gagged way too tightly, Aunt May and Mary Jane lay unconscious, oblivious to the threat no more than ten feet away from them.

"Lets see how the Amazing Spider-Man handles the loss of his loved ones. Shall we call it an experiment?" Doctor Octopus' s eyes sparked with cruelty as he inched his sharpest, deadliest tentacle towards Aunt May.

Struggling furiously, Peter managed to temporarily release himself from the grasp of Doctor Octopus. The tentacle grew closer still to Aunt May' s neck while Peter tried with all his might to reach her in time. Suddenly, the tentacle reached Aunt May, entangling itself impossibly tight around her throat.

"Aunt May! NO!" Scrambling desperately to reach his aunt in time, Peter blurred the line between asleep and awake and came out on top.

In a flurry of blankets, Peter found himself in his room, not in Doc Oc's lair. Shivering and shaking, Peter's breath came in short, desperate gasps as he tried to calm himself. Once his breathing slowed enough to be called simply breathing and not hyperventilating, realized that it had just been a dream, and that MJ was safe and Aunt May was... dead. Right. She had been, for about two months. But she was there. She was there, and she was going to die again...

Peter's mind replayed the nightmare as Peter curled in on himself, trying to ignore the increasing amount of tears obscuring his vision. Inhaling shakily, Peter found himself on the verge of sobbing. He quickly choked them down in favor of a quiet, hiccuping crying. Normally he wouldn't allow himself this kind of weakness, but later he could blame it on his fever.

Shivering in his blankets, Peter couldn't help but feel miserably alone. Sure, the others were just a floor away from him, but this space always felt way too big for one person to occupy alone. It made him miss home. The tears dripping down his face slowed, and his breathing evened after a while, but he still felt lonely.

After a few moments of vulnerability, Peter managed to calm himself enough to realize how warm he felt. His fever couldn't be any lower than 100°F at the moment.

"Jarvis?" Peter's voice cracked in his throat.

"Yes, sir?"

"What's my temperature?"

"101.4 °F, sir. Might I suggest taking some ibuprofen before returning to sleep?" Peter nodded, knowing that Jarvis' motion sensors would track his movement.

"Pretty sure falling back to sleep would be a lost cause right," Peter muttered to himself, rising out of his bed in search of some ibuprofen for his fever and increasing headache.

Quickly standing up next to his bed, Peter's head decided that up was down. His vision blackened and he nearly fell back into bed. Barely remaining upright, Peter leaned heavily on his bed for about twenty seconds. Peter slowly waited for his vision to come back and for the room to stop spinning. Testing his balance, he let go of the bed and was pleased to find out that he could indeed stand without toppling over.

Once he found the bottle, he swallowed two pills. Reading the instructions carefully, Peter noticed that eating something with the medicine was advised. Even though he still wasn't much hungrier than he had been at dinner, Peter concluded that a few crackers wouldn't kill him. So with that thought, Peter headed downstairs in search of some crackers and maybe a glass of water.

Arriving at the common area, Peter unsteadily shuffled over to the cupboard, grabbing a cup which he silently filled with water. Next he reached into the pantry, locating a package of crackers without too much trouble. First couple times he had tried to find something in Tony's pantry, he himself had nearly gotten lost in there. Thankfully Peter now had a clearer idea of what was where in Tony's colossal kitchen.

Taking a seat on one of the chair by the counter, Peter half-heartedly sipped his water and ate his crackers. Suddenly Peter heard something shift behind him. Twisting his head quickly while trying his best not to leap out of his chair and land on the ceiling, Peter came face to face with Bruce Banner.

"Uh...Hi?" Peter gave the doctor a wave. Bruce, who appeared to have been sitting in that spot for at least longer than Peter had, looked up at Peter, just now realizing that there was another human awake at this hour.

"Oh, hey Peter. I didn't notice you." Bruce shifted his glasses, trying to mask the hint of green in his eyes. Not much was visible, but it was there if you looked for it.

"Rough night?" Peter asked, drinking a bit of his water in order to avoid coughing.

Seeming to vacillate between yes and no, Bruce answered with, "Just some unpleasant memories. You?"

In the halfway lit room, Bruce could see that Peter's eyes were still kinda reddish, whether from sleep or from crying Bruce didn't know. He did know that on normal nights, Peter never was up this late unless he was out on patrol.

Peter shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Bad dreams. Couldn't fall back to sleep yet." Shivering in his thin T-shirt, Peter wished for the warm comforter on his bed. He used to be too warm, and now he was too cold. Stupid fever.

Bruce noticed his shivering, but blamed it on Peter's nightmare. "You want to talk about it?"

Peter bit his lip hesitantly. It's not that he didn't trust Bruce with his nightmares, it was just kinda embarrassing. Sixteen years old and still having nightmares scary enough to wake him at 3:00 AM. His dream wasn't that big of a deal anyways.

"Peter?" Bruce looked into Peter's troubled eyes. "Having nightmares isn't anything to be ashamed of. I'm one of many people in this tower that have them at least weekly. It's not surprising, given what you've seen that you have nightmares. Bottling them up sometimes just makes it worse."

Peter nodded reluctantly, taking another sip of his water. Inhaling before speaking, Peter irritated his throat. Four or five explosive coughs exited his mouth, which were caught in his elbow.

"You okay?" Bruce, the doctor as always, glanced at him concerned as he handed Peter his water.

"Yeah," another cough, "just went down the wrong pipe. What we're we talking about? Nightmares... right." At Bruce's look, Peter had no choice but to tell his nightmare to him.

"Just a bad dream, that's all it was. I mean, sure, it felt real at the time, but it was just a dream." Peter then reluctantly began to tell his dream to Bruce. He summed it up with, "and then I woke up. Just a dream, but it felt so real."

Peter's voice cracked at the end, making it sound like he was going to cry or something, which was stupid. If only he could stop feeling sick for a little bit, then he wouldn't seem so vulnerable to the others.

Putting a supporting hand on Peter's shoulder, Bruce said to Peter, "Hey, it's okay for your nightmares to scare you. We all have our fears and failures. The other guy was sure to show me that." With his hand on Peter, Bruce could feel warmth coming off him in waves. It was a little worrying, but it could simply be from having just gotten up from bed a little while ago.

Peter smirked, he still found it funny how Doctor Banner referred to the Hulk. "Thanks Bruce."

Bruce tilted his head in a confused way. "For what?"

"For being there." And with that, Peter left the room, intent on heading back upstairs and catching a few more Zzz' s before training and patrol tomorrow. He knew that he could sleep easily now because he had the Avengers with him.

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You know that feeling you get when you know you need to do something, but you really, really, really don't want to do it? Like read the book for your driver's permit, or study for a test, or go exercise. Peter had experienced that feeling many times, but never as much as he did now. Why might he feel like this now?

Maybe it had something to do with training time, which takes place at 10:00 AM Saturday mornings. A few of the Avenvers deemed 10:00 on a Saturday morning way too early to form coherent sentences (Peter and Tony included), let alone fight other Avengers and be expected to win. Unfortunately, the remainder of the team had no qualms about it, including a supersoldier, two shield agents, and a doctor used to being up at any hour needed, even if he wasn't super-powered at the moment.

Peter did not want to go, but unfortunately, he had no choice. Well, technically he did have a choice, but the other option involved telling the Avengers how lousy he felt, which would make him vulnerable to being seen as the weak link, or the littlest, or someone who wasn't capable of looking after himself. Peter had no intention of being a weakling, so he reluctantly rolled out of bed.

The ibuprofen he had taken the night before had yet to wear off, so for now Peter's headache was gone and his fever was practically nonexistent. Now if only he didn't feel like he was going to cough every time he inhaled or sneeze every five minutes.

Quickly pulling on a striped shirt, jeans, and a plaid jacket thing (with his Spidey suit underneath), Peter prepared for the day. Decidedly against infecting the rest of the Avengers with his superplague, Peter made sure to have a cough drop before leaving in order to avoid coughing unless absolutely necessary.

Clumsily shoving his feet in his shoes, Peter nearly fell over on his way out the door. He smiled to himself and sarcastically thought, "This will be one heck of a day if I'm already falling over my own feet. Can't wait."

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"So let me get this straight. Peter is sick, you knew about it, Natasha knew about it, and your solution is to not tell the only one of us that has any real medical experience. I really do live in a tower filled with genuises, don't I?" Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation; a habit of his.

"It's just a cold, Bruce." Clint shrugged his shoulders. "I really don't see what all the fuss is about."

"Have you ever known Peter to catch anything for as long as we have known him?"

Clint paused, thinking it over for a moment. "Now that you mention it, no, not really. There was that one time that a wound got infected and he had a fever, but other than that, the kid's had a pretty clean bill of health."

Bruce nodded. "Because of his spider bite, Peter's immune system as well as his healing factor and metabolism increased dramatically. His immunity to sickness is almost as strong as that of Steve's. This leaves us two options: either Peter has caught a bad case of some highly contagious flu, which is showing itself as a cold, or he ran himself ragged and is reaping the consequences."

"If it helps my case any better, I gave him some Nyquil?"

Clint's rhetoric question was never answered because right at that moment, Peter walked into the training room. Spider-Man mask in hand as well as a random sock that never fully integrated itself with the piles together mishmash that was Peter's outfit. It looked like Peter had literally just picked out whatever he saw first when he rolled out of bed. Not even bothering to make sure that he didn't wear plaid with stripes.

"Nice outfit, Pete." Clint called out.

Peter looked at his clothes, just now seeming to realize what he had chosen to wear today.

Hiding a blush, Peter replied with a word of wisdom for all the ages."Once you can accept the universe as matter expanding into nothing that is something, wearing stripes with plaid comes easy." He hoped nobody noticed how his stuffed nose tended to morph his m's and n's into b' s and d' s.

"Amen to that, Peter!" Tony applauded him, just now alerting the others to his prescience in the training room.

Clint, despite being a master in sneaking around and appearing from nowhere, almost suffered from whiplash when he turned to look at Tony.

Meanwhile, Bruce looked at Peter, noticing a few signs of illness. A cold would explain his awakening at 3:00AM this morning, as well as the nightmares which Peter had endured. He hadn't looked all that well last night, but Bruce had blamed it on his nightmare and the time it was. Sighing guiltily at his oversight, Bruce walked over to Peter.

With his mouth slightly open, Peter breathed louder than was normal for him. Sniffing a few times every minute in order to keep the constant stream of germs at bay, he looked even worse than last night. And despite the quick comeback to Clint's teasing, it was easy for Bruce to tell that Peter felt kinda out of it. He had spaced out at least three times this morning, and it wasn't even 10:00 AM yet.

Pressing his lips together in a thin line, Bruce considered confronting Peter about it right now and checking him over. He decided against it; it looked like Peter's fever was gone for now, at least from what he could tell, and he knew how hard it was for Peter to show vulnerability. He could check after training if he really needed to.

Last to enter the training room, Captain America walked into the room wearing his full uniform, minus the cowl.

"Avengers, suit up. Today we will be doing one on one without the use of our weapons. He gave Tony a look and before he could do so much as to argue against the no weapons rule, he said, "Don't bother making excuses, Tony. You need to be able to defend yourself in case of emergency."

Tony nodded reluctantly and took off his hand repulsors and pointed to his arc reactor. "I can keep this on. Right, Capsicle?"

Peter smirked, Tony always had some sort of sarcastic quip when responding to orders, and they never ceased to be amusing.

Clearing his throat, Peter followed the rest of the avengers to the locker room place near the training gym. He changed, and while taking off his mismatched clothing, Peter revealed his Spider-Man suit. Removing his web-shooters from his spandex costume, Peter felt grateful that no weapons would be used today. That way if Peter messed up and got himself injured during training, he wouldn't have anything more than a bruise to show for it. Not that it wouldn't hurt, of course, but at least he wouldn't get electrocuted or get his head blown off by Tony.

Noticing Bruce's eyes on him, Peter gave him a wave, and swallowed hard to avoid coughing while he was watching. It looks like the cough drop wore off already. Quickly leaving the room to head to the training gym once again, Peter covered five harsh-sounding coughs. They grated against Peter's already sore throat and made him wish he was back with Aunt May instead of toughing it out with the Avengers.

Testing his balance, Peter scaled up the wall next to him and was content to find that for now, at least, he didn't feel dizzy enough for it to affect him. The others would definitely notice if all of a sudden Peter fell off a wall because the world decided to take a spin.

"I got this." Peter told himself. But as we all know, pride comes before a fall, or at least before an epic fail.

Running up to Cap, Tony, and the rest of the Avengers, Peter nearly tripped over his own feet. Just barely avoiding falling on his face, Peter's mind whirled in hopes of finding an appropriate excuse for his two left feet.

"Having problems with gravity, Spidey?" Tony smirked at the unfortunately uncoordinated teen.

Peter responded anxiously, "No, I just... stepped on my shoelaces." They looked down to his spandex-clad feet in search of the non-existent laces. Blushing profusely, he was infinitely more grateful when Bruce walked into the room, distracting the others for the time being.

With everyone gathering in the center of the training area, Peter could clearly see the whole room. In the corner was a boxing ring, most likely for Cap and Natasha. Tony used it on occasion as well. There was a line of heavily reinforced punching bags built especially for the Captain America, Thor, and Peter in mind. In the center were some obstacle courses, a matted area for one on one combat, complete with a net hanging from the ceiling for everybody's favorite wallcrawler. There was a separate shooting range on the floor below.

Steve began to split the group into groups of two: Steve with Natasha, Bruce with Tony (the other guy had no intention of making an appearance today), and Clint and Peter. They were separated into relative skill sets, and took turns fighting so that the others knew their team's weak points, strengths, and moves. Sometimes was even two on two.

First Natasha and Captain America were up. Both highly trained in hand-to hand combat, they often took turns winning. The first one to land a blow hard enough to make the other fall and not either roll with it or recover momentarily won. Thor won often when he was here simply because he wasn't the type to be pushed over, but then again, neither were the rest of the Avengers.

Stepping onto the matted area, which consisted of uneven flooring with multiple heights and ledges and a few ropes, the two waited for Banner's signal.

"Three, two, one... go!" And they were off. Natasha striked first, intending on throwing a blow at Cap's chest. Grabbing her hands midstrike, Steve twisted her arms in hopes of knocking her down. Natasha's whole body moved with her arms, making her flip and land upright and releasing her from Steve's grip. He countered by punching straight toward where Natasha stood (he didn't punch at full strength when training; that could shatter bones).

Moving quickly out of the way, Black Widow grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the ground. He rolled with the momentum, moving to higher ground. Black widow jumped up to the ropes and swung towards Cap, intent in kicking him. Steve ducked, and on his way down, grabbed Nat's leg and pulled her from the rope.

Twisting in midair, she grabbed Steve by the shoulders, and much to the surprise of the group, managed to unbalance Steve by pushing him down as she landed gracefully on her feet. Stumbling slightly, Steve was unbalanced for Nat's final blow. Falling to the floor, Steve admitted defeat, grinning a bit sheepishly at his loss. Tony grumbled and passed a smirking Clint a five dollar bill.

Bruce and Tony sparred next, but to be honest, Peter wasn't paying attention. He was busy yawning and spacing out. Trying to ignore the itch in his nose. He removed his mask, appreciative of the ambiguity it provided but needing to avoid sneezing into it. That would be a pain to clean up. He rubbed his nose, and managed to rid himself of the itch for the time being. He looked back at the two geniuses just in time to watch Tony fall on his back as Bruce tripped him.

Next it was Peter's turn to spar. Between Clint and Peter, Peter tended to win in hand to hand, not because of a lack of skill, but simply because Peter had quick reactions and often used his Spidey sense to warn him of any attacks on his person. But today, Peter's hearing was a little iffy, as well as his Spidey senses, his balance, and his reaction time. He doubted that he would even get a good punch in today with how he felt.

The two squared off, taking their positions. At Steve's mark, they began. Clint ran at Peter, who jumped out of the way, and around Clint, meaning to land a punch on his back. Clint twisted around quickly and punched towards Peter's chest. Although he got hit in the stomach once, Spidey managed to block or dodge one punch after another before attempting to hit back a few times. Jumping up onto the ropes, Peter hoped to draw his opponent up there, secretly attempting to get his breath back. The fight had barely been going on for a minute and Peter was already winded.

Clint grabbed the rope Peter was holding and jerked it sideways with such a force that Peter lost his grip and fell to the floor. While the mats themselves weren't awfully hard, when Peter landed forcefully on his back it pushed all the air out of his lungs, knocking Peter's breath out of him.

Gasping for breath, Peter set off a chain reaction in his body, and started to cough. He couldn't get air into his lungs while coughing and he couldn't stop coughing while his lungs still needed air. He was coughing for at least thirty seconds straight, and could hear the others worriedly asking if he was okay. His head spun and his vision blackened. Clint pounded him on the back, hoping to stop him from coughing.

Slowly but steadily, Peter's breathing evened, and after a minute, he wasn't in danger of coughing up a lung anymore. His vision returned and he looked at the others who had gathered around him.

"You okay, kid?" Clint asked, looking Peter over. Peter nodded, taking a deep breath appreciative of the fact that he could breathe now.

"Yeah. Just got the breath knocked out of me." Peter's blush was partly from embarrassment and partly from his loss of breath. He paused and looked at the others who surrounded him.

"You guys can go now. I'm fine."

Steve walked over and offered Peter a hand in getting up. Peter waved it off, choosing to get up on his own. "You sure you're okay?"

Peter sighed. "Yes. I am fine. I'm not eight years old, I can take care of myself." Pushing himself up from the floor, Peter narrowly avoided falling backwards once again. Steve held his arm until Peter looked capable of standin by himself

Frowning in frustration, Peter changed the subject. "Are we done now? Because I want to go on patrol."

Steve nodded reluctantly, watching as Peter left the room. He didn't know much about medical stuff, but he was pretty sure that coughing that much was not normal. What could he do about if though? He wasn't Peter's dad or even his SHIELD-assigned guardian. He couldn't tell Peter what to do, but to be honest, the teen looked like crap. He'd just have to hope that the kid came back soon and didn't freeze to death. If he got lucky, maybe Peter decided to skip patrol today altogether. Probably not.

Simultaneously making an unspoken agreement with the rest of the Avengers, Steve decided to confront him about taking better care of himself when he returned. That is, if he didn't kill himself while on patrol. Crazy teenagers, barely have the self-preservation of a five year old.


	6. Peter Parker and Blackmail

Hi people, this is the final part of my story, and I hope that you like it! P. S.- I am planning on doing another fanfic based on the AU I made up for this story. Enjoy!

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Swinging across Midtown New York, Peter searched for people in trouble. The weather had taken a turn for the better, and was no longer trying to drown the city's inhabitants. Fortunately for Peter, no one seemed to be in imminent danger. Because of his illness, constant coughing, sneezing, and just plain feeling miserable, he doubted that he could save anyone well at this point in time.

Choosing to take a breather, Peter landed on the back of a billboard. A brisk gust of wind picked up and whirled itself right at Spidey. He shivered in his spandex suit and wished for the thermal suit that was still in progress back in the lab. Turning around, Peter's hacking coughs didn't even put a dent in the itch in the back of his throat. Swallowing hard, he managed to keep his coughing at bay.

Suddenly, he heard a scream of pure terror. It was coming from the alleyway next to that sketchy-looking Chinese restaurant. Swinging down to the scene, Spider-Man was surprised to see a familiar face. Sure, the victim as well as the five knife-wielding men were unknown to Spidey, but he did know the horned vigilante that had beat him to the scene. Noticing Spidey's presence without even looking, Daredevil gave him a quick wave before whacking one of the men with his billy club.

"Huh," Peter thought to himself, "I must have been closer to Devil's Kitchen than I first thought."

Jumping down to the scene, Spider-Man made quick work of two of the men while Daredevil finished off the others. Peter used his webs to pin the men to the wall for the time being.

He looked towards the woman they had just saved and asked, "Are you alright?"

At her shaky nod, Spider-Man picked her her purse, which lay on the ground after being grabbed by the knife-wielding men and handed it to her. "You should probably call the police or something. Those webs should hold them for at least thirty minutes."

"Thank you. Both of you." Her voice was still shaking as she ran out of the alleyway, intent on calling the police and then finding a safer, less sketchy way home.

Once she left, the two vigilantes abandoned the alley for the rooftops above it. Peter smiled, it was always nice to run into Matt. After a few run-ins and accidents, the two had come to be allies and had learned each other's identity through a series of unfortunate events that neither one wanted to replay. They were friends of a sort. Peter knew that when push came to shove, he could trust Daredevil with his life.

"So, how's life been in Devil's Kitchen? Been seeing a lot of action?" Wrong choice of words, Parker. Quickly backtracking, he said, " I mean, has there been a lot going on since Fisk left? Not that I have anything against you seeing...or not." Smooth, Peter, smooth. Peter cleared his throat, hoping that Matt didn't notice.

"It's been busy. With Fisk gone, a lot of gangs are trying to fill the gap he left behind. Other than that, things have been good. Today's been nice and quiet, must be the weather." Another swift and cold breeze passed Peter, making him shiver. "How about you?"

Here goes nothing. "I'm ok. School's busy, but I'm managing it."

Matt interjected sarcastically, "Like you're taking care of that cold? Foggy would kill me if I so much as went to the office with what you have, let alone went saving the city from people with knives."

Peter's face morphed into a scowl, disappointed with his acting. "Is it really that obvious? I didn't even cough or anything." Almost on command, Peter's throat tightened and he released two barking coughs into his shoulder. He removed his mask tiredly, it's not like anyone could see his face from up on this roof.

"Super senses remember? I could hear your breathing, and tell that you have a fever from this far away. I don't need to see in order to tell that you need sleep, meds, and just about anything other than being Spider-Man right now. The world can survive without you for a few days, or at least until you kick this cold."

"But I..." Peter tried to protest, but was interrupted by Matt.

"Really just want to go back home and sleep for a year. Yeah, I know." Daredevil smirked as Peter sighed in exasperation.

"That's not what I was going to say."

"I know, but that's what you thought. Don't argue, I know it. I can see it in your eyes." Grinning now, Matt laughed as Peter grumbled, "You can't see anything, Matt." Too out of it to even correct his rudeness, Peter sneezed twice into his elbow instead.

Admitting defeat, Peter reluctantly followed Matt's advice. "You need help getting back to Avengers Tower?" Daredevil offered even if he already knew the answer.

"No thanks, I think I can manage it. See you later, Matt."

"Feel better, Spidey." And with that, he was off. Jumping across rooftops and scaling the sides of taller buildings, Daredevil was gone in seconds, leaving Peter to make the long trek back to the tower.

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Meanwhile back at Avengers Tower, the others had gathered together in the family room area and were trying to figure out what to do with Peter. He didn't know his own limits. It was worrying to see the kid in that condition and still not trust them enough to let them in on the fact that he felt like crap. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

"I still don't understand, why didn't he trust us enough to tell us that he wasn't at his best?" Steve broke the silence, his blue eyes troubled.

"We could have helped, or at the very least, told him not to train today. How could he think going out on patrol today was a good idea?"

Clint wasn't angry at Peter, he was more angry at himself. How did they not notice that Peter really felt that bad? He had seen him there on the floor coughing, nearly ready to pass out and it made him want to kick himself. He should have taken it easy on Peter. Shouldn't have made him fall from that height; should have told Bruce sooner; he should have noticed that something was wrong with Peter and done something! He's like the little brother of the group, and they need to give him help when he needs it.

Natasha broke into Clints thoughts, "It's not that he didn't trust us enough to tell us, he's just struggling to be seen as our equal. He's an insecure teenager who wants to prove himself to us still. You guys can relate to that, right?"

They nodded reluctantly, seeing her point. She continued. "His biggest judge is himself. He can't give himself credit, and if you saw his grades, you would know that he doesn't believe in a day off. He's probably planning on working straight through this cold."

"Flu, actually." Bruce remarked. The others looked at him in surprise. "His immune system is pretty strong. He hasn't had anything but this since he got his powers. Sure, he's been injured once or twice, but nothing like this. Basically, with his iron immune system, only something bad can get passed his defenses at all. Plus he had a fever. Right, JARVIS?"

Bruce aimed that at the ceiling and JARVIS responded, "Correct, Doctor Banner. His temperature has fluctuated over the past two days, experiencing highs of up to 101.5° Fahrenheit."

Tony' s forehead creased with a line of worry, uncharacteristic for him but understandable given the circumstances. "What should we do about it? We can't exactly order him not to go out or anything. We're not his parents."

"No," Steve agreed before a thought. "But we are his teammates, and we look after each other."

The others nodded in agreement, and started to plan for Peter's return. Care is what Peter needed, and care is what he was going to get.

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Checking his watch on his way to his room, Peter was surprised to discover that it was only 2:00 in the afternoon. He muffled two coughs in his sleeve and shivered in his too-thin spandex Spidey-suit. He couldn't wait to change into warmer clothes.

Choosing some cotton sweat pants, a t-shirt with the words, "My BFF is a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist," (it was a gift from Tony, and despite the logo it was the comfiest t-shirt in the world), and a hoodie. Peter slowly but surely managed to achieve homeostasis with his environment. He sat on his bed, wrapped up in one of the quilts he had brought from home after he left and felt that all was right in the world of Peter Parker. And then he sneezed, ruining it all.

Nose running now, Peter had no choice but to get up while still wrapped up in the blanket burrito-style, and find some decent tissues before his nose fell off from the painfully scratchy toilet paper. Surely a billionaire like Tony would have some high-quality tissues lying around somewhere, right?

His search led him up to the family room area, which was unusually quiet for this time of day. Normally, at least a few Avengers would be up here watching TV and loudly commenting or criticizing the show, whether it was an inspirational football movie or The Big Bang Theory. From what he could hear, the room sounded empty.

Burrito Peter walked into the room and nearly tripped over his feet at the sight of the Avengers all gathered together in the room. The room was never that quiet when they were there.

"Peter, you're back soon, " Tony stated, eyeing the blanket-wrapped teen.

"Uh, yeah. Not much going on in the criminal world today. I think they're enjoying the first day without rain we've had in a week. What are you guys doing in here?"

Steve responded this time. "We noticed that you haven't been feeling your best lately, and we want to help. You shouldn't keep pushing yourself like this."

Burrito Peter blushed and muttered quietly, "It's just a cold. No big deal." He shivered minutely under his blanket.

"Actually, that's not true. Colds don't usually give you a fever over 100 degrees." Tony interjected.

Peter's eyes widened, "How do you know that?"

JARVIS spoke up, "Doctor Banner requested clarification on that fact, Master Peter. And might I say that your temperature is increasing again."

Peter glared at the ceiling, aiming for the AI, "Traitor." He pointedly ignored Steve's concerned look.

Clint spoke next. "Pete, we just want to help you. You don't need to prove yourself to us. Trust me. Last time I got the flu, I whined so much that even Bruce got annoyed. Director Fury practicality kicked me out of the helicarrier until I was better. Plus, I feel kinda guilty for making you fall and nearly pass out during training today. Let me make it up to you." Playing the guilt card was a low blow, but they had to try.

"But I..." Peter's throat tightened suddenly, making him cough painfully into his blanket-covered elbow. He let out a string of coughs which scraped across his throat on the way out. Natasha silently handed him a glass of water, her knowing eyes sealing the deal. "Fine."

Clint grinned, quickly rising from his position on the couch to help Peter over to the empty part of the couch. Peter slumped into the couch until he was laying across three of the couch cushions, completely engulfed by his blanket.

Sniffing in order to avoid having a runny nose, Peter opened his mouth to ask for a tissue. Bruce surprised him by handing him a box before he could even speak. Not that he wanted to, his throat felt like Electro was in there, shocking him whenever he so much as breathed.

Clint fetched the Nyquil he had given Peter from Peter's room while Bruce did a basic check-up. Feeling Peter's heated forehead before asking JARVIS for a specific reading, Bruce quickly ascertained that Peter did indeed have the flu, as was shown by his temperature and the severity of his symptoms. Natasha surprised Peter by making him some tea. He held it in his hands and felt his body heat up from the inside out when he drank it.

Steve held up the TV remote and asked Peter,"Do you feel like watching something? You can pick."

Even though Peter's voice still sounded croaky, it didn't hurt as much to talk anymore, thanks to Nat's tea. "Sure." After some thought, Peter decided on Tony's HD version of Peter Pan. It was a childhood favorite of his, and it wouldn't matter if he fell asleep for part of the movie.

Steve and Bruce came to join Peter on the couch. Peter moved his legs obligingly in order to make room for Bruce on one side, and Steve on the other. Tony sat on the recliner this time, ready to get up if Peter needed anything. Clint returned, holding the Nyquil. He handed it to Bruce who poured some out to give to Peter.

"Peter, can you take some of this please. It will help." Bruce was surprised when instead of taking the cup from him, Peter held up a finger, motioning to Bruce to wait for a second. He soon realized why.

Closing his eyes tightly and cupping his hands over his nose, Peter let out two congested-sounding sneezes. Blinking rapidly, Peter wound up for a third. Clint grabbed the tissue box and shoved a tissue in his hand just in time. Peter sneezed, although not loud, it was forceful enough to jolt him out his comfortable spot on the couch. He attempted to blow his nose on the tissue, but all that came out was a sad-sounding noise that happens when you can't clear out your nose.

A round of "bless you's" followed Peter's sneezing. Peter threw his used tissue at the garbage can, disappointed when it missed the trash can by mere inches. Natasha rectified this by picking them up and placing them in the garbage, this time not missing.

Shivering without the cover of his blankets, Peter was quick to situate himself inside his blankets once again. Bruce handed him the Nyquil, which he reluctantly swallowed, nearly gagging on the flavor. After he drank all the contents of the little cup, he washed it down with another sip of his tea.

"Have you eaten anything?" Steve questioned. He remembered how he used to not like to eat when he got sick. Peter might be the same. At Steve's question, Peter shook his head.

"Haven't felt like it."

Bruce glanced at Peter's face, asking him, "Have you felt nauseous or anything?"

Peter paused for a moment, thinking. "No, not exactly. It just didn't seem like a good idea to eat at the time."

"When's the last time you ate?" Bruce pressed on, hoping he wasn't bugging Peter too much.

"Last night I had a few crackers. And I had a slice of pizza at dinner." There was a nearly audible gasp at that revelation. Normally Peter ate five times that amount in one sitting.

Steve looked at Peter incredulously, "You need to eat. You may not feel hungry, but your body still needs energy. I can make you something if you feel up to it."

Not eating was a bad idea for someone with their metabolism. Peter's was slightly less than Cap's, but that didn't mean it wasn't a big deal when he skipped meals.

Peter hesitated, still not quite sure about eating. Bruce interrupted him before he could speak. "That sounds like a great idea, Steve."

Steve nodded and left the room to go to the kitchen and make some good old soup. Natasha went to help him; he still hadn't quite figured out the uses for most common kitchen appliances, and would have a hard time finding anything he was familiar with.

Now that Steve had vacated the spot on the couch near Peter's head, Tony decided to move there against his better judgement. Peter had closed his eyes for a second, and when Tony sat down, Peter felt the couch cushions sink without warning, causing him to jump in alarm and inhale sharply. Air went into his mouth, but coughs came out. Fiercely clawing at his throat, the coughing pained Peter greatly, and more importantly, it deprived him of much-needed air.

He begun to feel light-headed, and the room tilted slightly on its axis. In the background of his focus, Peter could feel someone moving him into a sitting position and patting him on the back in hopes of getting him to stop coughing. And slowly but surely, it was working. Peter could breathe now. He liked breathing. Breathing is awesome. He said as much once his vision no longer included random black dots where they shouldn't be.

Tony, who had been with him during that time, smiled and replied, "That's right. Breathing is pretty awesome. Don't plan on stopping anytime soon, okay Pete?"

Peter nodded, catching the sincereness in the man's sarcasm. Slumping exaustedly against the back of the couch, Peter could feel himself beginning to nod off, tired out from training, patrol, and being sick.

"Hey, Peter. Don't fall asleep like that, kid."

Peter's eyes blinked open and he nodded wearily. Lying back down, Peter felt himself being positioned so that his head was on a pillow right next to Tony. Once Peter was situated comfortably, the billionaire proceeded to run a hand through Peter's messy hair. Eyes slowly drifting closed, Peter couldn't help but feel better. The Nyquil hadn't kicked in yet, and he felt like he might have to wake up and sneeze within the next five minutes, but now something was different. Now he had people that he could trust and count on when he needed help, or even when he didn't want to go it alone. Peter knew that he wasn't alone and that made him feel great.

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About 30 minutes later...

"Holy crap. I can't believe this. Hey Natasha," Clint's conspiratorial grin was nearly bursting at the seams.

"What, Clint?" Natasha didn't even look up.

"How much do you think the press would pay for this picture?"

Looking up to see just what her partner had done this time, she was confronted with the adorable sight on the couch. Peter had fallen asleep, as peaceful as can be. Right next to him sat Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, philanthropist, germiphobe extraordinaire, fast asleep as well. One hand was resting gently on Peter, and the other was busy holding up Tony's head. Natasha smiled slightly before turning to Clint to see the photo on his camera.

Steve walked over to the two, soup in hand, and blanched at the sight of the grinning former assassins. He only relaxed when he saw the object of their amusement.

"Gosh, no wonder SHIELD decided that they should be related instead of one of the others." Steve, unlike Clint and Nat, had no intention of keeping quiet in order to blackmail Tony.

Hearing voices outside his sleeping, Tony's eyes opened and he woke up. Seeing Clint hard at work on his camera, he was quick to come to a conclusion.

"No pictures, please. My face is too amazing to be perfectly captured with something so grotesque." Clint flinched, he'd been caught.

"Dang it!" Clint pouted loudly, then remembering Peter, covered his mouth and was silent for as few seconds until he was certain that he had not awakened the kid. "Next time, Stark. Just you wait and see."

He left the room, Natasha following him closely. Once out of Tony's sight, she asked, "Did you get the picture?"

He grinned and responded with, "Does Iron Man have a metal suit?" He then proceded to show her the picture.

Poor Peter Parker. Sick, tired, and now blackmailed. That's the price that comes with his line of work, and he wouldn't trade it for the world.

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All done! P. S.- Comments make the llama happy. Oh, and I do not own Spidey or the Avengers, or Daredevil, or anything else in this story concerning stuff that is not mine.


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